An Act in Two Parts
by Harm Marie
Summary: It begins with a hero...and ends with a team that will leave the supernatural world in pieces. Or laughing hysterically. Ficlet series featuring Spike/Mini-Jack friendship with lots of snarky goodness. *Now with cover art by VedisThana
1. Part One: The Hero

_A/N: This is set during Angel season 5 a few months after Destiny and, of course, AU from that point on. I do not own any of these characters.  
_

* * *

An Act in Two Parts

Part One: The Hero

It happened on his way home. That had surprised him. This had to be the worst place Spike had been to on his road trip. As a new "Rogue Demon hunter" (the Watcher's words, not his) or rather a "Roving Demon Hunter" he was down right bored with this city. Two days and he had only staked one vamp. He also couldn't find the local demon hangout. That was almost unheard of; every city had at least one demon bar.

He had chatted up the vampire, prior to staking of course, and found that most demons avoided this city all together. To much military presence. He had noticed them, of course. The only thing that kept him from just driving right through Colorado Springs was the pressing need for fuel. For both him and his RV.

It was a beautiful machine, as far as RV's went. Much nicer than the last one he drove, which was probably still beached in the desert with a sword or two stuck in it. This one was a brand new A class with all the comforts of home: a trailer with a motorcycle on it (also new), a mini-fridge, a queen sized bed in the back...and a catch of weapons under the sofa.

He would have never been able to afford this on his own. It, along with his new legitimate, _corporeal_ identity, and new paycheck were now in the employ of one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. William James Edwards was a licensed private investigator with Angel Investigations.

He was still working on convincing the Watcher to change the name to something better. Something like Spike Investigations had a nice ring to it, though Wes didn't think so, but Spike was working on it. Maybe something to do with his new ability. It seemed that going up in a pillar of sunlight had had an unexpected side effect: Spike was immune to the sun's rays.

It was the biggest stock since becoming solid again. He had taken a large bottle of alcohol from Peaches and managed to locate an empty office in which to drink that unfortunate encounter with Harmony out of his brain. He was watching the sunset through the windows when Angel found him. Seems he was none to happy with him for emptying the liquor cabinet, among other things. So Angel came storming in, intent on hitting him or something, when he suddenly flinched back into the shadows, smoking. They stared at each other dumbly before Angel called Fred. Turns out the office was empty because it didn't have necro-tempered glass yet. Oh, he was still undead, just immune to the sun. Spike hadn't had this much fun since he'd had the Gem of Amara. The best part had been rubbing it in Angel's face.

A few months later, and the novelty still hadn't worn off. He spent the day walking around town in the sun before heading out to this great bar he had found. It was called O'Malley's and served that onion flower thing that he loved so much. He spent much of the evening eating, drinking, and playing pool.

It was while he was walking home that he heard the struggle. He picked up speed when he smelled the vamps. Turning the corner, he ran, duster trailing, toward the alley. From the entrance he paused for a second to judge the situation.

A teenage boy was about to be fed on by two vamps. He was putting up a struggle though. He punched one of the vamps in the face causing him to grab his nose, before the other vamp grabbed the teen from behind, preparing to bite.

Spike charged in and pulled the vamp from the stunned kid before staking it. He turned quickly to the other vamp and after a short scuffle, staked it.

"Amateurs." Spike scoffed. It was disappointing how easy that was.

"What...was...that." The teen's voice carried in the small alley, even though he stood with his hands braced on his knees, panting.

"Uh...gang members...on PCP. Yeah. I chased them off." Spike stuttered through an explanation. In Sunnyhell, the victim would have already run off by now.

"That." The boy stood, his voice becoming stronger, "was no gang member."

Spike sighed. "Just go home, kid. You don't want to know what that was."

The kid seemed to flinch before drawing himself to his full height. He was taller than Spike, almost 6 foot and Spike had to look up to meet his eyes. They were old eyes. The kind of eyes that reminded him of the Slayer. This kid was not at all what he appeared to be.

The brown eyes hardened, gaze challenging.

"Tell me."


	2. Part Two: The Victim

A/N: This is set during after the season 7 episode of Stargate SG-1 Fragile Balance.

* * *

An Act in Two Parts

Part Two: The Victim

It happened on his way home. That had surprised him. It was supposed to be a milk-run. An _actual _milk-run. Jack had been pulling a can of pop out of the fridge when he remembered that he was out of milk. He didn't want to brave school tomorrow without his usual fruit loops.

School. He was man enough to admit (if only in his own head) that he was miserable. He thought it would be a new adventure, a new mission, to learn and adapt to high school, except…it didn't end. It was now six months later and he was still here. There was not going to be a rescue at the last minute, no conveniently timed beam-out, no radio call from Teal'c to draw him back to his old life. No one needed him or missed him because they had Him. _The original._ He wasn't even real.

Hell, he didn't even have his own name. His 15 year old identity was for one Carter Jackson, emancipated minor. Of course, he still went by Jack, though hardly anyone called him that. Oh, he had friends…well, acquaintances really, and they weren't so bad, just teens. They were so wrapped up in their small lives and petty problems that Jack's 50-year-old brain was ready to zat the lot of them. They had no idea that every day they sat in class, complaining about that quiz in geometry, there was a group of people out There (among the stars) so the world didn't end.

It was one of the only things keeping Jack sane: the thought that he might someday be able to go back through the gate and make a difference again… to do something worthwhile again.

Jack realized that he'd stopped and been staring at the stars above his head. He sighed before resuming his trip.

It was a beautiful night and the walk, while a little over a mile, was pleasant. The convenience store was quiet at this time of night, so he was in and out with his jug of milk in no time. He made it about 2 blocks before it happened.

He hadn't thought that his instincts were that rusty, but he didn't sense them coming. Before he knew it, the two men had dragged him off the street and into the adjoining alley. Milk forgotten, Jack immediately started in on freeing himself. A couple quick moves and they released their hold on him. Getting mugged was so not on his list of things to today. It took half a second to notice their distorted features. Another half second to realize there was no way out.

"Would you look at that, Joe. Looks like we got ourselves a live one." The one blocking the alley entrance slurred. The 'man' was having a hard time talking through his teeth. 'Joe' nodded, his feral grin more offsetting than his distorted features.

Before Jack could formulate a sarcastic remark, 'Joe' rushed him. Jack quickly side-stepped the rush, hitting the 'man' as he passed, causing him to go head first into the wall. The other one, taking advantage of Jack's distraction, grabbed his throat and squeezed. Jack struggled in the strong grip, the ugly face looming closer. He did the only thing he could think of, and spit in his face.

Jack's vision flashed, as the pressure increased. Guess he was still great at riling up the enemy. He struggled to take in enough air. The face was close enough now. Raising his right hand, Jack punched him in the face with all his strength.

The grip on his throat was released. He barely had time to inhale before the forgotten 'Joe' grabbed him from behind, wrenching his head to the side. And then he was gone. Without his support, Jack collapsed onto his knees, just breathing. He watched as a man with white hair and a trench coat fought off the second attacker with ease. Jack wasn't jealous. Nope, not at all. Then the trench coat man did something that caused him to vanish. Poof and the 'man' was gone.

Jack struggled to his feet. He made it upright before his vision greyed out. He leaned to brace his hands on his knees and focused on breathing through it. The trench coat man's back was still to him, his shoulders slumped.

"What…was…that." Jack rasped. The guy whirled around and looked almost surprised to see him there.

"Uh...gang members...on PCP. Yeah. I chased them off."

Right; and the Gould are all just misunderstood. This guy needed to work on his cover story. Jack stood and cleared his throat.

"That was no gang member."

The man heaved a sigh, looking resigned. "Just go home, kid. You don't want to know what that was."

Jack couldn't stop the flinch at being called a kid. He just couldn't leave. Something more was going on here. More than a couple of muggers who weren't muggers. He straightened to his full height, hiding any sign of discomfort, and met the guy's eyes in a hard stare. Soldier's eyes, Jack noted, as the man met his gaze head on, weighing him in return.

"Tell me."


	3. Phoenix File: Canadian Road Trip

This is the first in a drabble series called Phoenix Investigations. Basically, Jack joined up with Spike working for Wesley. Stories will not be in any real order.

A/N: I do not own Spike or Jack

* * *

Canadian Road Trip

The line of cars crept slowly forward. Spike growled in frustration, hands tightening on the wheel, as he brought the RV to a halt … again. Jack glanced at him from the passenger seat before fiddling with the radio again, his other hand keeping the large demon text in his lap.

"You know, growling isn't going to make the car in front of you go any faster. You need to be patient." He reasoned.

Spike shot him a look. "And you're a picture of patience yourself," he drawled, eyeing Jack's fidgeting hands. He stilled the hands.

"Yeah, well, I'm not the one who blew the plan in San Francisco that let those Howler demons get the jump on us." _Take that._

They had laid out a great plan until _someone_ threw the whole thing out the airlock. And it wasn't the bad guys.

"You're not going to start up on that again, are you?" Spike griped. "I told you—"

"'You got bored.'" Jack interrupted, mimicking Spike quite poorly. Spike started to respond but Jack cut him off, "I know, I know, but I'm the one who had to come help bail you out." He pointed an accusing finger.

Spike smirked. "Yeah, but it was fun."

Spike inched them forward as the car in front of them moved. One more car and they would be on their way across the US/Canadian border for a case.

Jack returned to researching their new 'big bad', as Spike called it. As far as he could tell, this would be a standard slice and dice. It didn't hurt to be prepared though. If only Daniel could see him now.

"You may want to put that away. Wouldn't want anyone to ask questions." Spike interrupted.

Jack glanced up to see the car in front of them pull out. "They will probably just want to see our passports before sending us on our way, your accent doesn't exactly scream 'American' so much as 'British'." But tossed the book behind him none the less before grinning innocently at the look Spike gave him. Jack wasn't sure if it was for the book or the accent crack, but enjoyed himself none the less.

* * *

Spike _finally_ brought the RV to a stop beside the small booth on his left. A customs officer walked up to the RV's driver's side, eyes glued to his clipboard. He glanced up, but didn't acknowledge Spike. His fingers tightened on the wheel.

"Can I see some identification, please?" The man asked the clipboard.

Spike dutifully handed over his driver's license and Jack's when the boy handed it to him.

"Anyone else on board?" The official cast a suspicious glance at the motor home.

"No, sir." Spike answered politely. Perhaps being polite would get him out of this faster. He shrugged internally. Couldn't hurt.

The guard raised an eye brow at his accent. "Do you have proof of citizenship or legal US residence?" He returned the licenses.

Spike sighed, and accepted the passports Jack handed him, ignoring the smirk. He passed them over and pocketed his driver's license.

The official scrutinized the passports thoroughly. Satisfied, he returned them as well, and began the standard questions.

"What is the purpose of your trip?"

Let's see, they were traveling to Canada because some one in Vancouver, B.C. had called Phoenix Investigations with a Tarval infestation (lots of claws and slime). Jack and Spike were on their way to take care of it, hopefully before they hatched.

"My nephew and I are on vacation."

"Length of stay?"

"Oh, not more than a few days." The Watcher wanted them to check out some odd reports coming from New Mexico after this.

"Do you have any firearms, mace or pepper spray on board?"

Firearms? No. Though not for lack of trying on Jack's part. Legally he wasn't 18 and therefore unable to obtain a gun permit. What they did have, however, was 3 axes, 2 broad swords, a dozen different daggers, and a mace. Somehow he didn't think the type of mace they had was the type the official was asking about.

"No, sir."

"Any illegal drugs?"

He resisted the urge to snort. Like he would admit it if there was. "No, sir."

"Do you have any alcohol or tobacco?"

"Yeah, one 12 pack of beer, but no tobacco." Oh, how he wished there was tobacco, but no, Jack wouldn't let him smoke. Brat. He had gone on and on about how it was bad for you. Apparently 'vampire' wasn't a good enough counter argument. Though Jack had admitted to being a smoker in a previous life, he was insistent, so Spike had given up. He hadn't been smoking much anyway since he'd come back from the dead…well, from being deader.

"Alright." The officer made a note on his clipboard. "I need you to pull forward and park the camper next to that curb on the left." He pointed to the customs building a few yards ahead. "And exit the vehicle."

Spike raised his eyebrows at the man; it translated as 'Are you nuts?'

"Your vehicle has been chosen for a random search." With that, the man walked off. Spike briefly considered going after him and ripping off the man's head, then decided against it. If he did that they would never get out of here.

* * *

"Random search?" Jack's voice was incredulous. "What about our weapons?" He was panicking. He knew it, Spike knew it. Damn if it didn't piss him off.

Spike took charge quickly, while moving the RV to the designated point. "Throw everything you can find under the sofa and activate the 'notice-me-not' ward."

"Will that really work?" Jack was already moving around the camper, collecting demon reference volumes, stakes and knives. The ward was untested, though Boss-man said it would work. Tossing the books and weapons inside the compartment, he quickly activated the ward.

Not a moment too soon apparently.

A sharp knock sounded on the door. Jack unlocked it and swung it outwards...almost into the face of the customs officer on the other side. The man backpedaled and sent Jack a glare that could melt paint.

It didn't even faze the former black-ops colonel. Squelching the rising smirk, he merely raised his eyebrow and didn't even bother sounding sincere in his apology. The man noticed the smirk anyway. The female agent behind him stifled a giggle.

"I need you to step outside the vehicle and go sit there on the bench outside the building." _Where I can see you_ was left unspoken.

Jack exited the camper with false enthusiasm. "Come one Uncle Will, times a wastin'." The Tarval eggs could hatch at any time. The younger these things were when he and Spike got there, the better. Of course that didn't mean he couldn't get a few hits in on the 'old man' in the mean time.

The agent, whose name tag identified him as 'Officer Hooker' stood by impatiently while Spike exited. It seems that he was a little anxious to get on board. The female agent, 'Officer Moore', entered at a more sedate pace.

Jack plopped down on the bench with the grace of a teenager and dug his gameboy out of his pocket. Starting it up, he looked over at Spike to give him a superior look, when he saw that the man next to him had remembered his gameboy as well. He shrugged internally; at least they wouldn't get bored waiting.

* * *

"Sir, would you care to explain this?" Spike glanced up from his gameboy to see the stern-faced agent Hooker storming towards them with something in his hand.

_The crossbow_. He had forgotten about the crossbow. So had Jack apparently, as his heart rate had increased. His face remained blank, soldier training and all, but Spike could tell the kid was rattled. So was he.

"Sir, I thought that you said that you didn't have any firearms on board." Hooker brandished the crossbow around like he had never held a weapon before, while pinning Spike with a glare that said, I knew you would be trouble.

Spike snorted, causing Hooker's glare to intensify. Now it said, give me a reason to lock you up.

"Well, officer," He drawled, "I said there were no firearms on board because that crossbow does not fit the definition of firearm. It is not a gun, nor does it use gunpowder."

Officer Hooker did not look convinced. In fact he looked pissed.

Spike and Jack traded looks. They were never getting out of here.

* * *

The tires beneath them hummed on the road as the RV cruised down the highway. Vancouver wasn't far and a quick call to their client confirmed that the eggs were still eggs. Things were looking up.

It's a good thing that their boss happened to work at one of the most powerful law firms in the world. It made getting out of trouble a lot easier.

Now if only Hooker had given them back the crossbow.


	4. Phoenix File: Sapience

A/N: This is a different style and a little darker than the previous drabble, but that is the nature of a drabble series. They don't have to all be the same. Rest assured though, most of the other additions will be funny.

I do not own this character.

* * *

Sapience

He used to wonder if he had a soul.

After all, he was created by technology. His purpose was to distract anyone who knew Jack O'Neill and later be destroyed with no one the wiser.

He was given memories. Yes, memories make a person…but they didn't create a soul. Alright, so he's not exactly a religious person, but he does believe that there is something inside us that makes us unique. That's why he never felt much sympathy for his robot double. He couldn't be Jack O'Neill because he wasn't even flesh and blood.

Except that wasn't him. And now he's the copy.

You can't copy a soul.

He knows now. What it is to have a soul. Learning about the supernatural has given him that. Talking to Spike and Angel, he knows what a soul is and knows what he would be without one.

Most importantly he has learned that if you wonder whether or not you have a soul, you probably do, because if you didn't, you wouldn't care one way or the other.

He cares.

He used to lay awake and wonder if he was real. Wonder, if he does have a soul, where did it come from? He used to think about of some of the things he had done in the past and wondered if he ever had a soul in the first place.

He doesn't have to wonder anymore.


	5. Phoenix File: Something Investigations

_ A/N: This turned out a little different then I thought it would. It's not as funny as I'd hoped. Plus for some reason all of these are ending up from Jack's POV. Oh, well. Better luck next time._

_I do not own these characters._

* * *

Something Investigations

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining, the air warm, a nice breeze coming off the ocean. Jack and Spike sat in beach chairs, legs sprawled out in front of them and a cooler between them. Jack was content to just sit here and soak up the California sun.

"We need a name."

Spike's voice startled Jack out of his almost doze. He squinted behind his aviator shades and turned a curious glance to the man on his right.

"For what?" Jack was confused, that was the first time that he'd spoken since suggesting where they set up, almost 2 hours ago.

"Our detective agency."

Jack stared at him, puzzled. "I thought it already had a name?" _Angel Investigations_ might not have been his first choice, but it sounded alright.

"I don't like having our agency named after Peaches. It's not right." Spike spoke adamantly. "It should have a different, much better name, like _Spike Investigations_."

Jack just raised his eyebrow and stared. It was a couple moments before Spike looked over to him and sighed. "Yeah, I didn't think you'd go for that one." He turned back toward the water. "But you know that if we don't come up with a name, the Watcher is going to change it to something like _The Wyndham-Pryce Agency_." He mock shuddered. "I don't think I can work for an agency with such a poncy name."

"Oh no, we wouldn't want that." His sarcasm drew a quick grin before they returned to contemplating the water.

Once again it was Spike who broke the silence. "What about Lazarus?"

"Isn't that from some kind of poem?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, and?" Spike challenged, eyebrow raised in his direction.

Jack considered it. _Lazarus Investigations_ or _The Lazarus Agency_. He shook his head. "I don't like it."

Spike nodded his acceptance, already searching for another name.

"_Steele Investigations_." Jack threw out.

Spike chuckled. "You watched that show, right?"

"Yeah." Jack didn't get what was so funny.

"The guy was a fraud. A con artist. The chick did all the real work." Spike explained.

"Oh." Jack stated. "I guess that wouldn't be a very good name."

They fell into silence once more. It was several minutes before Jack spoke up.

"What about Phoenix?" He wondered quietly, more to himself than to Spike. He was, after all, on his…third life? Fourth?

"The mythological fire bird?" Spike's voice brought him to the here and now.

Jack nodded. He turned his face to the warmth of the sun. "Yeah, they burn up in a pillar of fire and are reborn from the ashes. Sound familiar?" He directed the last part at Spike with a grin.

"As a matter of fact…You know, you're on your second life here as well." Spike reminded him.

"Yeah, but whose counting." Jack replied flippantly. Spike just gave him a look, one that reminded him exactly how old Spike was and that Spike knew exactly how old he was.

"Alright." He found himself nodding. "_Phoenix Investigations_ sounds perfect." And it did.

* * *

The phone rang several times before a click indicated the activation of the answering machine. A cultured British voice spoke clearly on the recording, "Thank you for calling Phoenix Investigations. We help the hopeless. Please leave your name, number and a description of your problem and we will contact you as soon as possible."

"Umm, hi. I think my house is haunted…"


	6. Phoenix File: Getting to Know You

_Disclaimer: I do not own Stargate or Buffy/Angel. Spike's quote near the end was Joe E. Lewis_.

* * *

Getting to Know You

How many times can a man start his life over? A lot, I guess, but the real question is: Is the new life better than the old one?

* * *

Jack has started his life over so many times that he has nearly lost count. The first time was joining the Air Force. He left behind his plain childhood to embark on _the adventure of a lifetime_. And it was great. He loved the Air Force and yeah, sometimes the Air Force didn't exactly love him back, but he excelled there.

The next time wasn't really starting over, per say, so much as it was adapting his current life around a person, then people. Getting married and having a son was a lot better than his life prior to Sara and Charlie. Even with the heartbreak that followed.

The next time he had to start over was both harder and easier. Easier, because home had not changed while he was gone, and harder, because he had. Four months being held behind enemy lines changed him and he wasn't sure that he could change back.

Then came the most devastating start-over to date. He lost his son to an accident involving his gun; then later, as he locked his guilt and despair inside, his wife. To be fair, he had left on a suicide mission but coming home to an empty house and a set of divorce papers was not how he wanted to start his new life. And, thanks to a certain archeologist (who shall remain nameless), he really did want to start his new life. His biggest regret is that his son's death was the catalyst for what he thought of as both his best and worst new life. Because this life was both.

Going through the Stargate was like nothing else he had ever done before. Here he was, traveling across the _galaxy_ almost everyday with the best friends he ever had. He fought bad guys, flew spaceships, saved people…doomed people, killed people, made situations worse. He didn't know it was even possible to both love and hate a new life as much as he loved and hated this one…and damn did he miss it.

Now, he was once again in possession of a new life and hoped to God, The Powers That Be, and whoever else may be listening that it was his last. It was a slow transition at first. He had held out hope that his sudden height loss could and would be corrected…until he saw Him. The _other_ Jack O'Neill. And he suddenly found himself drop-kicked out of his Stargate centered life and into high school. Though his demon hunting career could be called a start-over from there, he preferred to file high school away with such almost-start-overs like Edora and that time he was memory stamped.

His newest life was like nothing he could have imagined, even after going through the 'gate and doing what he did. He could have never foreseen being Jack Edwards, teenager and traveling around in a camper with a souled vampire who can walk in the sun and pretends to be his uncle, fighting demons with said vampire and all while working for a man who works at a semi-evil law firm run by another souled vampire. Oh, and magic is real. Go figure.

* * *

The first time that Spike's life was started over, was when he was turned. Of course, he didn't know exactly what he was agreeing to when he met the strange, hypnotizing woman in the alley, but he learned. In his new life there was no more 'William, the bloody awful poet' or women laughing down their noses at him…no more Mother. He tried, he really did, to bring his mother with him into his new life, but she was so different. He still couldn't understand how he could still love her after the change but she couldn't love him. He wasn't alone in his new life, though. He had Dru. His black goddess. The love of his un-life.

Life as a vampire was wonderful. Never before had he felt so strong and powerful. There was also the thrill. Thrill of the hunt, thrill of the fight, and Slayers. Of course, this was bogged down by little things like: no more sun, higher alcohol tolerance, and a pesky pseudo-sire by the name of Angelus. Angelus didn't stick around long though.

If he was honest with himself, his life started over again when Angelus became Angel. Dru may have been the one to sire him, but it was Angelus who had taught him how to be a vampire. _A monster._ He never liked to admit the other man's power over him, not even to himself, but it was there. Angelus dominated his un-life and his girlfriend while ruling with an iron fist, or fists as the case may have been. With him gone, Spike was better able to be himself. To enjoy the world and everything in it. Life with out Angelus was satisfying and long.

There was, of course, that brief period in Sunnyhell when Angel took a turn for the evil, but Spike didn't count that as a start over. It was more like a flash back but with more leather.

His life did start over in Sunnyhell later anyway. One minute he was plotting revenge on the Slayer, the next he was caged, in more ways than one. What The Initiative had done to him, the new life they forced onto him was awful, exciting, interesting, boring, annoying, and wonderful all at the same time. Thinking back though, what he really remembers is the pain. Never in any of his time on this earth had he felt such a pain before and may he never feel such again.

The next start-over was when he fell in love with the Slayer. Sure, he was fighting demons before that, but it was mostly because he could. By falling for the Slayer, he began to help out more. He became a White Hat, much to his own dismay. When the Slayer died, everyone thought that it would be the end of the new Spike, but they were wrong. His life didn't start over again until she came back.

At first, he was angry. 'Magic always has consequences,' he said. The consequences just took a while to show themselves. But they did and he became the Slayer's whipping boy. She ran hot and cold, said 'no' and 'stop' when she wanted him. Striking out when she felt like it. And he took it, because he wanted her, any piece that she would give him. Until the day he tried to take too much. The day that she said 'no' and 'stop' and meant it.

His life started over again in a dark cave in Africa. He was never quite sure what exactly he was seeking when he went through the trials, but what he got was a soul, and it burned. He went a little crazy after that, but eventually pulled himself out of the basement of Sunnydale High to throw himself into the fight against The First. It ended up killing him, and he thought it was the end…

Only to come back and start over again in LA, with Angel. Angel thought that getting a soul hadn't really changed him that much. He still talked the same, fought the good fight and all that, but the truth is that it did change him. He just didn't show it very much. All the guilt that he carried inside him, all the doubt, was hidden. The only ones who saw it and cared were Fred and the Watcher. Because of them this newest life was turning out to be the best. He had a purpose in life again, one that he was sharing with Jack. They were going to make a difference in the world and Spike pitied anything that got in their way.

* * *

It was determined that if Jack was going to join Spike in working for the yet un-named detective agency, the two of them would have to get to know one another. That meant talking. And because it was the two of them, it meant drinking…A lot of drinking.

So they got a hotel room in sunny LA, on the company card, and Spike bought enough alcohol to take down an elephant (or a vampire and a teenager), also on the company card. And then they talked.

--

"So, she's still out there somewhere?"

"Yeah, as far as I know. Dru may not be very sane, but she's a survivor."

--

"And then we heard the shot. I recognized it instantly and I think Sara knew it was wrong, same as me."

--

"So I told her, 'To the end of the world, even if that happens to be tonight.'"

--

"The snake bastard just kept torturing me to death over and over again, trying to get the information."

"Tortured to death?"

"Figure of speech. Sure wished I wasn't going to wake up each time."

--

"Seventy-six bottles of beer on the wall, seventy-something bottles of beer! Take one down and pass it around, seventy-six bottles of beer on the wall."

"Seventy-five, not seventy-six."

Sigh. "I love beer."

--

"I could feel was the light burning into me from the amulet. It really hurt. 'Course I laughed as I turned to dust."

"It kept you from screaming."

"Yeah."

--

"Wow, that's a lot of people." Jack slurred. They were both lying on their backs on the hotel room floor. Beer bottles and bottles of hard liquor were scattered on various surfaces through out the room. All empty. Scattered around the two men were mostly empties but also a few full bottles. Oh, and snacks. Lots of snacks.

"Yup." Spike responded with a popped 'p.' "And only one bleeding shower that never had any hot water left."

"You poor, poor man." If Spike were more sober, he would have thought it was sarcasm. Though, if Jack were less drunk, it would have been.

"Did I mention that they were all teenaged girls?"

"Yeah." Jack's unfocused gaze was directed at the ceiling above their heads.

"You know what that means don't you?" Spike turned his head to eye the kid.

"Cat fights?" Jack was really far gone, if the dopey grin had anything to say about it. Spike just snorted before turning back to the ceiling.

"Nope, PMS. Each and every one of them. At the same time." The last sentence was punctuated by Spike with a finger pointed in the air.

Jack giggled, though he would feign memory loss in the morning. "Are you drunk?" Spike had been responsible for most of the empty bottles. Jack's tolerance wasn't what it once was.

Spike lifted both hands out in front of him, watching with utter fascination the way they turned this way and that. "Nope."

"You sure?" Jack slurred, also watching the hands move.

"Yep. 'You are not drunk if you can lie on the floor without holding on.'"

Their laughter filled the room. Life was good.


	7. Phoenix File: Left Behind

A/N: I'm not quite sure this chapter turned out exactly right. I was going to just post the note, but added to it at the last minute. Let me know what you think.

I do not own these characters

* * *

Left Behind

The apartment was dark and silent when he let himself in. It looked like the kid had just left this morning for school instead of the two days it had been since he was last seen. There were no signs of a struggle, nothing looked out of place. There was only a note lying on the coffee table.

Colonel Jack O'Neill crossed the tiny living room in two steps and picked up the piece of notebook paper. It was addressed to him…sort of.

* * *

_Dear Old Man,_

_Congratulations! If you are reading this it means that you might actually care about what happens to me. If that isn't the case then I bet you sure are mad at getting the call from the Air Force saying that I'd slipped my watchers and disappeared. I would say I'm sorry, but I'm not. And if you are worried about all of the classified information that I am carrying around in this teenaged skull of mine, don't be. Rest assured, I left of my own free will._

_Yup, I'm gone. Left behind the state of Colorado and all the mountains contained therein. Seems that there are places I can go on this world and still make a difference, even at my 'age.' Won't tell you where though. I hated this miserable life and they won't be sticking me back in it under lock and key. Tell them not to search for me. _Carter Jackson_ is going to fade quietly into the night. I'm going to have a new name now, to go with my new purpose. _

_I know that asking this of you isn't very fair, but you owe me. Keeping the Air Force off my back is the least you can do. I will be contacting you sometime in the near future to confirm that all of this is true; to prove that there is not someone 'untrustworthy' standing over my shoulder while I write this and that I am not being coerced in any way. _

_I just can't stand idle anymore._

_Jack_

* * *

Colonel O'Neill carefully folded the note and placed it in his jacket pocket. A quick check of the bedroom showed an unmade bed and no personal items. He knew without looking the dresser at the foot of the bed would be empty and that if he checked under the bed (which he did, just to be safe) the small cigar box would not be there. The kid wasn't coming back.

He left the apartment as quietly as he entered, relocking the door. He walked down the dim hall, past the 'Out of Order' elevator, and pulled his cell phone out of a pocket.

He had a search to call off.


	8. Tell Me: Sorry, what?

_A/N: This is the continuation of the first two chapters. It picks up right where __Part Two__ left off._

_I do not own these characters_

* * *

Tell Me

Sorry, what?

* * *

_"Tell me."_

Spike thought about what he'd read in those brown eyes, _old _eyes and made his decision.

"Is there somewhere less…alley-like where we can have this conversation?"

Sharp eyes studied him before the boy nodded. "Yeah, we can head back to my place. It's not far."

Spike shrugged. Now… "Are you really going to let me in or are you just using this as an excuse to call the cops?"

"Yes, I'm going to let you in." Thinly veiled sarcasm gave way to slight suspicion. "Unless I really do need to call the cops."

"Yeah, I'd like to see you explain that one. 'You see officer, he saved me from getting eat—I mean mugged and then turned the mugger into dust.'"

The kid snorted. It seemed he had a sense of humor. More importantly, Spike had an invite. He wouldn't have to know that he was inviting a vampire into his home. That way, Spike wouldn't have to explain the difference between himself and other vampires. Not everyone saw the world in shades of grey.

The wind picked up as the two of them made their way, causing the kid to pull his jacket tighter around him. The early November air had a bite to it that Spike ignored. He wasn't really bothered by the cold, but shoved his hands into the duster's pockets anyway.

"What were you doing out this late anyway, kid?" He was curious, so sue him.

"Jack, not kid, and I needed some milk." He groused, and Spike remembered the milk spilled all over the entrance of the alley. "What were you doing out, besides saving my ass?" His gaze swept over to Spike before moving on. The kid was aware of his surroundings. He had handled the vamps in the alley well enough for an uninitiated bloke and Spike could not forget those hard brown eyes. _hmm._

"Just on my way home, actually." He pause, realizing it was the truth. "Name's Spike."

The kid just nodded and they walked the rest of the way in silence.

* * *

"_The world is older than you know. Contrary to popular mythology, it did not begin as a paradise…"_

* * *

"I'm sorry, what?" Jack was convinced that he hadn't heard that right. Maybe he was hearing things, something like…

"Demons are real."

Yup, that was it. Spike kept staring at him, like he expected him to jump up and scream or something. Hell, if Spike was telling the truth, finding out those men were vampires was not the weirdest thing Jack had heard, though it ranked right up there with "this is a wormhole to another planet", and "you're not the real Jack O'Neill."

The whole walk to the apartment, Jack tried to come up with every explanation that he could as to why those men's faces changed and how Spike (as he'd introduced himself) was able to disintegrate them with what looked like a simple piece of wood. He ran through every type of technology he'd seen and speculated on others. Somehow, demons and magic didn't make the list.

"This is the part where you deny everything, convince yourself that you were mugged and would swear in court that the men who mugged you ran off into the night." Spike drawled, slouching further into the almost comfy armchair Jack had bought at a garage sale.

"So, demons, magic, and all that stuff is real?" Jack wasn't sure why he was asking, except for the small part of him that believed what Spike had said. The part that invited him back to the apartment and stood in front of a huge ring of rippling blue and thought 'cool.' The rest of him needed convincing. A lot of convincing.

"Yeah."

"Why doesn't everyone know about this? I haven't seen one news story saying 'Man killed by mythical demon. Details at 10.' I mean, those…vampires? They weren't exactly subtle." Jack pointed out.

Spike rolled him eyes. "People rationalize what they can and forget what they can't. They convince themselves that it must have been a trick of the light or that they are remembering it wrong. People just don't want to believe what's out there. Those in my line of work call it _Sunnydale Syndrome_."

"Why call it that?"

"There was a town in California called Sunnydale—"

"The one that was destroyed by an earthquake?" Jack interrupted.

Spike just raised an eyebrow. "You really think that it was that simple. That an earthquake could cause a whole town to disappear into a crater. A perfectly round crater?"

Jeeze. Anymore sarcasm and Spike would have it dripping out his ears. Okay, so Jack didn't think that it was an earthquake. He thought that it was some kind of alien technology, at first. But when the SGC couldn't find any evidence of technology then all that was left was the most likely explanation. Earthquake, caves, tremors scaring off locals. Poof, no more town. All perfectly normal.

Right.

It was times like this Jack wished he was old enough to drink.


	9. Tell Me: Like Magic

_I do not own these characters._

* * *

Tell Me

Like Magic

* * *

Jack stared into the depths of his soda like it had all the answers. He seemed to be taking the news about the whole magic thing well enough. He didn't run from the room screaming at least, or go into some kind of stupor. Actually, after the initial shock he seemed to take the news almost too well, like he should have seen this coming. Maybe this wasn't his first supernatural encounter.

"You alright?" Spike asked, with perhaps a smidge of genuine concern.

The kid startled, like he'd forgotten Spike was there, but nodded. "Yeah, I think so. It's kinda a lot to take in, you know?"

"You seem to be taking this well." He phrased it more like a question, then the accusation he was actually making. A nervous chuckle gave him all the conformation he needed. Spike carefully worded the next part.

"What have you seen?" It came out gently. Spike leaned forward in the armchair and braced his elbows on his knees. He tried not to appear too eager when Jack briefly froze before covering it with a 'disarming' smile. What the kid couldn't cover was his skyrocketing pulse.

"Seen? What do you mean?" It sounded like genuine confusion. The kid was good. Spike was better.

"You are taking this too well. You have to 'ave seen something strange before or know someone who has. 'Sides," Spike locked his eyes on the brown eyes in front of his, "you have old eyes."

He leaned back again and let the kid war with himself.

_

* * *

_

"_We think the Asgard took the real you and made a copy..."_

_

* * *

_

"It was like magic." Didn't Carter always say that any advanced technology would appear to be magic to those less advanced?

Spike seemed considering. "So you just woke up one morning and you were a teenager again?" He summarized. "No idea how?"

Asgard cloning technology. Asgard beaming technology. "Nope. No idea." No idea how any of that stuff works.

"So what happened then?"

Jack decided to stick as close to the truth as possible without revealing any classified information. _Anymore _classified information. As it was, he could be locked away in a small dark room if he was caught talking about this stuff. Maybe they would give him Harry's old room.

"I freaked. Tried to enter the military base where I was stationed and was caught. Managed to sneak my way out and went fishing."

Spike stared, then dryly remarked, "You broke out of a military base and went fishing."

"Yup." The word oozed with false enthusiasm. He continued in a normal tone of voice. "Found out later that the real—" he almost choked on the word, "the real me showed up a couple days later with no idea what happened. So I stayed away. They probably just wrote me off as a thief for taking the colonel's ID."

"And all this?" Spike waved a hand around to indicate the apartment.

"I know a guy." Jack answered mysteriously. It got him a raised eyebrow. Not as good as Teal'c, but passable.

"I'm a former black ops colonel. I have connections. And connections don't look all that close when you wave enough money in their face."

Spike was silent for a long time. "So, how old are you anyway?"

Jack could read the other man enough to know it was his way of accepting what he'd been told.

"It all depends on what you're asking. I have existed like this for six months, I am legally 15 years old, and I turned 51 last month." Jack stated matter-of-factly.

Spike snorted. "You're still just a kid."

"Okay, you were listening before, right? I'm 50 years old. Stop calling me kid." Jack was annoyed. This guy wasn't listening to a damn word he said.

"Oi, respect you're elders. You may be 50 but I still have at least a hundred years on you."

"What?!"

This was going to be a hell of a night. One thing was for sure, Jack was totally calling in to school sick tomorrow.


	10. Phoenix File: O'Neill to

_A/N: The title of this one is actually a baseball reference. Tinkers to Evers to Chance was the first triple play of the game. It seemed to fit._

_I do not own these characters._

* * *

O'Neill to Jackson to Edwards

"Okay Jack, so you need a new name for these records, 'cause you don't want the Air Force to come knocking down your door?"

Jack paused his perusal of the swanky office. Wolfram and Hart sure set their lawyers up nice.

"Yup."

Charles Gunn was the best lawyer Spike knew. Well, he had admitted that Gunn was the only lawyer that he trusted. It seems that the man grew up as a demon hunter and was now some kind of super lawyer due to magic. Jack was just happy that Gunn could make him disappear. The more space he could put between the "original" and himself, the better.

He hoped that no one would look for him. He had mailed a letter to Daniel, knowing the man would worry, telling him that he was moving and that he would be safe. O'Neill he left a letter saying that he was going to make a difference again and told him not to look. He hoped the old man understood and would stop anyone official from searching him out.

But in case he didn't, Carter Jackson needed to disappear and he couldn't use any of O'Neill's contacts, so Spike's friend it was.

"I want my first name to be Jack. Not John, or Jonathan, or anything like that. Just plain old Jack." He had always hated being Jonathan and had dropped it as soon as possible.

"Last name?"

Jack was stumped. Spike seemed to pick up on that, in his strangely observant way, and offered up a solution.

"How about Edwards?" Jack looked at him, questioningly. "That way you could make him my nephew or something. Otherwise, a man traveling with an unrelated minor might draw us some unwanted attention. What do you think Charlie?" Spike arched an eyebrow in Gunn's direction.

Gunn nodded. "That would make things a lot easier. I can add him into your fake history and won't have to create a whole new one. He can be your sister's son." Gunn typed rapidly as he spoke.

"I have a sister?" Spike asked. "Guess I shoulda looked a little closer at that folder the Watcher gave me."

"Yeah, I gave you a sister when I set you up. She could have suddenly died and as her only living relative, you would get custody of her son."

"So now I have a dead sister?" Spike stated.

"A dead sister with a dead beat boyfriend who has no business raising a teenager." Gunn kept typing. "I'm also going to make you a year older," Gunn said to Jack, "it adds a layer between your old identity and this new one. Makes it harder for people to connect the two."

Jack nodded. That's what he would have done. And bonus, he got to drive again! So far Gunn seemed to be doing alright. Another good thing to do would be—

"How long have you been using the identity 'Carter Jackson'?" Gunn paused, looking over his shoulder.

"Six months." Gunn nodded and turned back to the computer screen.

"I'm going to set it up so it looks like Spike got custody eight months ago, another layer between Jackson and Edwards."

—And there it was. Damn he was good.

"Well, that's it." Gunn pushed back from the computer. "In a couple of hours, the skilled people in the printing department will deliver a birth certificate, social security card, driver's license, passport and custody documents. By tonight, there will probably be a dozen people who would swear on a stack of bibles that little Jack is much better off with his mother's brother then that dead beat father of his, who never had the decency to marry his mother."

"The printing department will do all that?" Jack tried to reign in his sarcasm, he really tried but...

Gunn brushed off the sarcasm and just shook his head. "Nah, the magic department will be doing the witness part."

"Magic, right. Must remember this." That got him a raised eyebrow from the vampire. (Vampire! Wasn't that a kick in the ass.)

"Aren't you a magical copy of an Air Force colonel?" Spike asked, rhetorically.

Jack adopted an aggravated expression. "Well, *****I*** **didn't know that. I told you, I woke up like this." Jack waved a hand dismissively.

"I remember." Spike replied, shoving his hands deep into his duster's pockets.

"Well, gentlemen, it's been a pleasure doing business with you." Gunn stood and shook Jack's hand. "Spike." They traded fist bumps. "Keep in touch man."

The two of them wandered out of Gunn's office and into the foyer area, unsure what to do now.

"If we're going to be working together, we are going to have to get to know one another better." Jack suggested, keeping an eye on the various people walking around them.

"Alright." Spike shrugged. "I snitched Peaches company card. Wanna go get drunk?"

Jack turned to agree and barely suppressed a flinch as a man walked by them covered in some sort of viscous fluid and...were those antlers?

He must have made a face because Spike started laughing, before lighting a cigarette.

"Well, Jack Edwards, welcome to our world."

Jack smiled.


End file.
